


Save the Intent

by Mrs Addams (Scoutieout)



Series: Together [1]
Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoutieout/pseuds/Mrs%20Addams
Summary: The pope has decided to join the 21st century and declare that priests no longer are required to be celibate.  Naturally this is good news to Fleabag and Priest, who can't wait to reconnect.
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Series: Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993657
Comments: 13
Kudos: 105





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no idea what the protocol for an announcement like this would be, so for the sake of fanfic fantasy land, I've kept it simple.

The Priest sat listening to the broadcast intently, head bowed with his elbows on his knees, hands tented almost in prayer. There had been rumors for days that the announcement was imminent, and it appeared that today it was finally going to come to fruition. Suddenly, with one simple proclamation, the pope changed the trajectory of the Priest’s future and opened the door to something wonderful.

“Holy FUCK!” he yelled, voice echoing around the empty church, before he let loose a cheer worthy of a Premier League championship win. If there had been birds in the belfry, they certainly would have taken flight.

He leaped up and hurried out of the back room, needing to find her, hold her, tell her. Pam, startled at all the commotion, had appeared in the entryway. “Are you alright, Father?”

“Yes, Pam, just going out on an errand!” he yelled, rushing down the aisle towards the door.

“When will you be back?”

“Dunno!”

“Confession’s at 3:00, Father!” she called after him.

“Yup, yup!” he burst through the door and into the sunshine. It was such a glorious day to be alive! He headed briskly down the sidewalk, debating if it would be quicker to take the bus or walk. He wasn’t sure where his exact destination was, though: café or flat? She kept such erratic hours at the café that he wasn’t sure if it was open today. Truth be told, he was so flustered that he couldn’t even remember what day it was. He jogged a bit down the road, deciding the bus would take too long to arrive. Café or flat? Café or flat? He checked his watch: a little after 1:00.

He stopped and patted all his pockets, looking for his phone. “Bloody fucking bastard!” he yelled, finding his pockets empty and realizing too late that he must have left it on the table next to his laptop. Luckily he wasn’t wearing his collar, so that he looked like any other random nutter ranting on the sidewalk as opposed to a blasphemous priest yelling expletives for all to hear. It wouldn’t exactly be an effective technique to increase the congregation’s numbers.

He paced back and forth on the sidewalk, deciding that going back for his phone would take too long. He ultimately determined that her flat would be the surer bet, breaking into a full out sprint with one goal in mind: find her NOW.

  
***

  
Fleabag was in her kitchen, scrolling her phone and half listening to the TV, when a breaking announcement from the Vatican caught her full attention. Was it finally happening? She paused, holding her breath, eyes widening when the announcement was made. She immediately dialed the Priest, willing him to pick up. When he didn’t answer, she fired off a quick naughty text full of suggestive emojis, shoved her feet into a pair of shoes near the entryway and flew out the front door. She decided to skip the bus, not having the patience to wait at every stop when all she wanted to do was leap on her Priest and finally shove her tongue down his throat.

A few months after their bus stop breakup, they had eventually found their way back to one another, ultimately deciding that being heartbroken friends was better than remaining heartbroken apart. Sure, it was ridiculously frustrating that friends was all they could realistically remain, but they truly loved being in one another’s company and couldn’t bear to be apart. Their companionship filled a void in both of their lives, and she was proud that they were able to handle their friendship like reasonable adults.

They made it a point to only hang out in public places, though: noisy pubs, crowded restaurants, afternoons when her café was open… nowhere it was really easy to slip off alone and give in to temptation. He’d even convinced her to join him a few times at ungodly hours for runs in the park. The Priest became one of her regulars at the café, adored by Joe and often cornered for endless discussions about religion. She didn’t think it possible to be jealous of Stephanie and Hillary, but whenever she saw the Priest run his fingers gently down their furry bodies, she’d feel a pang of envy.

They did have one slip-up, though, not even that bad, really. One night after he’d insisted on walking her home, they’d ended up stumbling into her flat, thoroughly shitfaced from the pub and having a ridiculous drunken row that still made her laugh.

“McCartney still sells out fucking arenas, and he’s practically eighty!” he’d shouted, earning a snort from her and a thump on the wall from the neighbor. She wasn’t sure how they’d landed on the Lennon vs. McCartney debate again, yet here they were.

“Yeah, well…” she’d stalled, really enjoying winding him up. “Then how come there aren’t shrines to him all over New York City, then?”

“Because he wasn’t fucking shot there!” he’d shrieked, grabbing his hair and leaving it sticking up in all directions. She’d burst out laughing, which only infuriated him more, until he joined in, and the next thing they knew they were wrestling furiously on her couch, a tangle of tongues and groping hands, until they eventually broke apart before they crossed any real lines of indecency. They’d laughed it off sheepishly, agreeing they’d better stick to public places after all. At least they had ended the evening slightly embarrassed (and incredibly sexually frustrated) instead of with the Priest combusting with guilt and shame.

See? They’d grown.

Still, though, she occasionally hummed “Imagine” just to annoy him.

  
***

  
She started running when she was about halfway to the church, immediately regretting every cigarette she’d ever smoked. She hoped he was there and wondered if he’d heard, figuring maybe he hadn’t since he didn’t call or text her back. How could he miss this? Wouldn’t there have been some sort of Catholic call to arms or something?

She was really moving now, dodging power walkers and mothers with prams in her haste, cursing out one or two along the way - honestly, doesn’t anyone work this time of day? – when she shifted to the edge of the sidewalk to avoid a figure clad in all black hurtling towards her. Wait!

“Hey!” she exclaimed, screaming his name and windmilling to a stop. He ran a bit further before slowing and turning around, seeing her at last. He jogged back to her, smile growing wider the closer he got.

“Were you –“ oh fuck, she couldn’t even speak. “Looking? For me?”

“Flat…” was all he managed to get out. “Coming…flat…you…oh God,” he doubled over, hands on his knees. “Usually my runs…are invigorating, but this…I feel like I might die!”

“I may vomit,” she groaned, her hands cradling a stitch in her side.

“I don’t think I’ve ever sprinted so fast for so long,” he gasped. “I just…wanted to find you. Shall we sit?”

“Yes, please!”

Seeing that all the benches were taken, they half staggered, half crawled to the shade of a large tree and flopped on their backs, panting heavily. She couldn’t help but think back to the last time they were in this position, panting side by side and grinning like loons, and felt a thrill of excitement. _Soon_.

“So I take it you heard?” he smiled, eyebrows raised in question as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Practically straight from the mouth of God himself, if he existed.” She reached out for him, and he captured her hand in his and brought them both to his chest. She noted he wasn’t wearing his collar and had the top few buttons of his shirt undone. “Who’d have thought that I’d be so invested in an announcement from the Vatican?”

“I’d like to think it has something to do with me,” he said, stroking her thumb with his.

“So how does this work exactly? Does there need to be some sort of ceremony involving blessings and incense or dipping your cock in holy water or anything?”

He laughed. “Ah, no, I believe we’re good to go.”

“Good,” she smiled, then added jokingly, “Sorry, but I already have plans for tonight, though, so…”

“Of course you do,” he said, kissing her hand and returning it to his chest. This was the most physical contact they’d had in ages, and it was only the start. They both knew what the night really held for them, and the anticipation had her buzzing with excitement.

They laid there for a few moments, smiling at one another almost shyly while they tried to catch their breaths. The park was filled with walkers and joggers, and a group of mums and their toddlers had set up blankets near their tree, but all they could see was one another. She could feel his breathing returning to normal, yet his heart was still beating wildly. The Priest’s face softened as he gazed at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He was staring at her so intensely that it took all she had to avoid straddling him right there in the park in front of everyone, indecency arrests be damned. She was about to ask him what he was thinking when he finally spoke.

“Marry me,” he said quietly.


	2. Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are said and answers are given. Or are they?

“What?!” she bolted upright. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Now, just hang on,” he said hurriedly, scrambling up after her. “I don’t mean like, ‘I’m desperately in love with you, marry me today’…”

“Well, aren’t you charming?” she said sarcastically.

“…but I don’t want you to think I just view you as a sexual outlet…”

“And romantic! I’m so lucky.”

“I’m not actually proposing,” he sputtered, running both hands down his face. “I don’t mean--”

“Then why say it? Honestly, is this the stipulation to the celibacy rule being lifted? You’re allowed to have sex now, but only if you’re married to the person? I should’ve known there’d be some sort of archaic caveat—"

“Will you just let me fucking say this?” he interrupted, clearly anguished and frustrated that he wasn’t able to explain himself.

“Hmmm, not really sure that ‘fuck’ belongs in a marriage proposal, Father.”

“Just—” he clenched his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths before slowly opening his eyes and sighing. “I do love you, you know that. At least I hope you know that.” Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t truly heard him say it properly since the bus stop, save for a few inebriated ‘No, I love _you’_ s that they slurred at one another after a few too many shots of tequila, which inevitably ended with one (or both) of them getting all weepy over the limitations of their relationship. “You have been such a joy and light in my life, and no, the proclamation didn’t say we have to be married to have sex.”

“Trying to pin me down, then? Worried I might get bored now that you’re not forbidden fruit anymore?” Her eyes narrowed at the thought.

“No, and I don’t mean this as a true proposal. This is more like a…fuck, what do they call it?” He looked around, circling his hand in the air, trying to think.

“A mental breakdown?” she supplied.

“No,” he huffed. “Oh bloody hell, what is it called? Not the wedding invitation, but the thing you send before…oh, fucking hell.”

“A ‘save-the-date’?”

“Yes!” he snapped his fingers and looked relieved. “Only this is more of a ‘save the intent’, I guess? Or intention, I don’t know. I’m not trying to pin you down or pressure you, and maybe someday down the road there will be a proper proposal with…I don’t know, balloons or acrobats or some bullshit—”

“Do you even know how proposals work?” she laughed in disbelief. His face fell and she instantly felt a smidge of sympathy for him. They were sitting cross-legged facing one another, and she was suddenly reminded of school: knee to knee, eye to eye, listen to your partner. 

“No,” he replied sincerely. He started pulling blades of grass out of the ground and fiddling with them. “I don’t know how any of this works. I—” he stopped when he noticed that one of the nearby toddlers had wandered over to them, thumb in her mouth and regarding them quietly with huge brown eyes.

“Hello, little love,” she cooed to the young girl. “Please go away.” The child’s mother scuttled over to collect her child, shooting them a look of annoyance. 

The Priest sighed before adding, “I specifically chose a career where I didn’t have to worry about things like this anymore. I suppose now would be a good time to tell you that I was utter crap at relationships before.”

“I gathered that from the ‘celibacy is a lot less complicated than romantic relationships’ comment ages ago,” she said wryly. “So was that why you became a priest, then? To cut yourself off from the ladies once and for all and devote yourself to God?” He was always so evasive about his past that she was constantly searching for clues to what led him down his path to servitude and loneliness.

“No, it was more than that,” was all he offered, before adding “I was never good at this, though. Always too much, or too little, not present enough, not sober enough, I just always fucked things up one way or another. I’m terrified I’m going to cock things up with you, and here I am, well on my way.” He laughed bitterly, staring down at the ground while yanking more grass and shredding it into little pieces.

“Hey,” she said softly, willing him to look up. “Hey.” she repeated, taking his hands in hers. “Careful, at this rate, there won’t be anymore grass left in the park.” He lifted his head and all she could see in his beautiful dark eyes was distress. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the best at relationships, either. I mean, my most successful one was with my ‘girlfriend’ Harry, and you’ve seen what he’s like.”

The Priest laughed, to her relief. She continued, “And if you think about it, we’ve sort of already been in a weird semi-relationship for awhile now. Not what we had before the wedding so much, but this. Our friendship has been frustratingly chaste, and I’ve definitely dated around a bit…” The Priest frowned, though he knew he had no right to be jealous. “…but you’re the person I call when I’m sad, or when I’m happy, or when I’m lonely. In a way, this has been my most functional and simultaneously dysfunctional relationship to date.”

“Mine too,” he agreed quietly. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve taken a shit all over the day. I’m just caught up in all my feelings and didn’t think before speaking. Blame it on the adrenaline, I guess. I’m just elated, and… also terrified.” He confessed.

“I’m terrified, too, but there’s no reason we have to sort out our entire lives this morning.”

“Afternoon.”

“Shut up. My point is, yes, we’re probably going to both fuck things up somewhere down the line, because apparently we’re good at that, but we’re adults, we can figure things out together. Right?”

“Yeah.” He gave her a relieved smile, then furrowed his brow, glancing at the mums and children nearby. “I’m desperate to kiss you right now, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep it ‘park appropriate’.”

She looked around at all the happy families and wished she could will them away. “We could head to mine, if you’d like?”

“I have confession in –“ he checked his watch, “—about an hour, and if we get started on anything now I won’t be able to bring myself to leave.” He squeezed her hands and brought them both to his lips, kissing each one to tide himself over. The quiet calm settled over them once again as they both contemplated what the future held.

“You’re lighting up,” she remarked.

“I’m just so happy,” he sighed, pulling her hands to his chest.

“No, I mean your pocket,” she said, indicating with a nod of her head. “It keeps lighting up.”

“What?’’ he reached in and pulled out his phone. “Thought I’d left this behind at the church. I must have missed a pocket in my frenzied search on the way here.”

“I was in a mad rush when I dashed out, too.” She smiled.

“Yeah, I gathered from the pajamas and mismatched shoes.” 

“It’s my day off, and I was in a bit of a haste to find you, no time to change. You should be flattered.”

“Thanks. They are kind of cute,” the Priest said, fingering her pajama shorts, which had tiny rainbows all over them. He glanced down at his phone. “Oh, wow, this is a _lot_ of text messages. Ah, one from you!” He read it and smiled. “Very classy. And very doable….but, a snake?” He looked up at her, puzzled. “Is that meant as an Adam and Eve reference?”

“Um…” he was actually quite clueless sometimes. “Finger must’ve slipped.” 

The Priest resumed scrolling through his messages, a worried expression soon taking over his face. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no….fuck!”

“What’s wrong? Someone die or something?” she asked, hoping their plans for the evening weren’t already derailed.

He cleared his throat. “It appears that word has gotten out among the parishioners about the celibacy restrictions being lifted. I’ve got quite a few asking me if I have plans for the evening.”

“You serious? Let me see!”

“Oh, God. OK, this one’s from one of the single mums wanting to meet for drinks tonight…” he stabbed the screen with his finger, opening another message. “Let’s see, this one’s married, inviting me over for “counseling”… _this_ one’s at least 10 years older than my mum…”

“How do they even have your number?” she laughed. “Maybe I should be the one trying to pin you down instead.”

“It’s in the parish newsletter, in case of emergencies.” He kept scrolling and shaking his head.

“Suppose this could be considered an emergency, everyone’s trying to win the race to pop your holy cherry.”

“I fail to see the humor in this. And besides, it’s a bit late for that. You already got there first last year.” The Priest’s brow furrowed as he read some more messages. “Here’s one from a guy I don’t even know, inviting me to some Turkish bathhouse.”

“Did he include a dick pic?” she inquired, peering at his phone.

“No, thankfully.” He looked up at her inquisitively. “So that’s really a dating thing, then? People just send one another pictures of their bits and pieces with the hopes that someone will latch on?”

“It’s been known to happen. Why? Do you want me to send you one?” she asked cheekily.

“I’m rather looking forward to the real deal, thanks,” he replied wryly, looking back at his phone. “Oh, fuck me hard and sideways, here’s one from your godmother!”

“What?!” she exploded. “That cheating bitch! How dare she?” A few of the mums covered their children’s ears and glared at her. “Right, that’s it, we’re heading over there right now and I’m blowing you in her garden. Come on!” She hastily started to rise, but the Priest grabbed her wrist to bring her back down. 

“Hang on, it’s not what you think. ‘Hello Father, just heard the good news!’” he read aloud as she settled back down. “ ‘I have just the perfect person for you…’”

Huh, perhaps Godmother was going to play matchmaker for them.

“—she’s Irish…”

Damn.

“…an amazingly talented clog dancer, and…” he started laughing heartily, “ ‘…and selectively mute. I think you would have so much in common!’ ”

“Right. A tap-dancing mute. She thinks someone like that would be better suited for you than me? What a cow.”

“Oh, come on now, she’s not all that bad, is she?”

“I can’t even pretend to answer that with a straight face,” she said, taking a handful of his grass clippings and tossing them at him. “So, looks like I have some competition for your affections then, hey? I’d better up my game, since everyone’s crawling out of the woodwork to get your attention--”

“You are the only person who ever has my full attention.” He smiled.

“—and Pam’s probably lubing up as we speak…”

“Ah, fuck, why would you put that image in my head?” the Priest protested, dropping his phone and covering his face with both hands. “Oh, God, no, no, no…” he trailed off, staring at the ground in discomfort.

“You’re imagining it right now, aren’t you?” she grinned.

“Yes! Why would you say that?” he said, voice raising an octave. “She’s a lovely woman and I live with her, I have to face her later on,” he cringed, half laughing.

“Speaking of Pam, we’re going to have to keep our extracurricular activities at my place, since I doubt we’d be able to fully enjoy ourselves with her lurking about.”

“Oh, I don’t know, according to you she’ll be joining in,” he retorted.

“Wouldn’t be my first threesome,” she said, hoping to scandalize him.

“Nor mine,” he said ironically, then playfully imitated her open-mouthed look of surprise.

“Mmm, so many things I still need to learn about you,” she purred. “This is going to be fun!”

“Yes, it will, but right now I’m not sure what I’m going to do about all this,” he waved his phone at her before tucking it back in his pocket. “I’m going to have to get control over the parishioners, set some boundaries. I can’t have them turning up to mass wondering what I’m wearing under my robes.”

“Trust me, they’re already doing that.”

He smiled, shaking his head and taking her hand again before heaving a deep sigh. He put his chin in his other hand, elbow on his knee. She tilted her head to the side, taking him in and still slightly in disbelief that they were actually, finally going to happen. She suddenly felt a bit shy, the hugeness of the fact finally starting to hit her. All she knew was that they were being given a chance at a new life, and she was all in.

“Ask me again,” she practically whispered after a few moments.

“Ask you what?” he questioned, recognition dawning on him when she widened her eyes. “Oh, so you can explode at me again and make me feel like a dumb arse?”

“No,” she said, bringing his hand to her lips and holding it there. “So I can answer you properly.”

He regarded her a moment, debating if she was serious or not. “Do you want me on my knee, then?” he asked at last.

“Both knees, you’re a praying man, you’re used to it.”

He shook his head and laughed, but obliged her request. She sat back on her heels, feeling a flutter at seeing him looming over her like he did so long ago. Only this time they were sure to have a much more favorable outcome.

“Now, this feels familiar,” he murmured, taking her face in his hands and caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “I swear to God, though, if you’re winding me up…”

“Just…come on,” she encouraged, releasing a shaky breath when he fixed her with the slightly pouty, intense look that he had to know always did it for her.

“Marry me,” he said seriously.

“Not a question,” she sang.

“Fuck you,” he smiled, eyebrows raised and shaking his head slightly before trailing soft kisses along her jawline. Her eyes drifted shut as he reached her ear and whispered once more, “Marry. Me.”

She took a few breaths before pulling back slightly to look at him, seeing love and light and promises of a lifetime of tomorrows in his eyes. “Okay. Someday.”

“Someday?” he repeated, face breaking into a beatific smile that matched hers. “Really?”

“Sure, why not? Now fucking kiss me.”

He looked around uneasily at the mums and children before nervously admitting, “I haven’t kissed anyone in public in a decade.” She rose up on her knees so that they were eye to eye, putting a hand on his jaw to turn his face back to hers.

“No time like the present to break that drought.”

“First, though, I have a request for tonight,” he said bashfully. “Could you…with the coconut oil…?” He mimed rubbing his hands over his torso.

“That do it for you, then?” she grinned, remembering how he’d ended up covered in it that night as well.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t even look at the stuff without remembering our one night together. Brings back a lot of fantastic memories.”

“Our _first_ night together,” she corrected.

“Yeah,” he slowly nodded, realization setting in. “First of many, many, _many_ nights together.”

“As long as we’re making requests,” she hummed, brushing some grass off of his shirt before taking her finger and trailing it gently down his cheek and along his jawline. “Keep the stubble. I want to be rubbed raw by it tonight.”

“Right,” his head bobbed up and down rapidly. “That’s it, I’m going to kiss you now. I’ll try to show restraint and keep it civil.” He shrugged and shot the mums a final glance before gently tucking her hair behind her ear. He embraced her cheek and took a nervous breath before finally, irresistibly capturing her lips in a gentle kiss that they both had longed for since that night at the bus stop. He slid his tongue incredibly slowly into her mouth, eliciting a few tuts from the mums and a whimper from her as she melted into him. Too soon he pulled away from her, leaving then both panting and wanting.

“I really do have to go,” he said regretfully, making no move whatsoever to release her.

“Are you sure you can’t just come home with me right now? Let the sinners catch a break this afternoon?” she breathed, grasping his shirt collar with both hands before catching his lips again now that their barriers had disappeared at last.

“It wouldn’t look good if I shirked my duties on my first day of freedom,” he lamented. “Otherwise I’d have you right now up against that tree.”

“What time will you be done?”

“Around 5 or so. I can be by right after that.” He reluctantly stood up, offering her a hand and pulling her up and into his arms. “You gonna be ready for me by then?” he teased.

“I’m ready for you right now,” she pouted, knowing he had to get back to work but not feeling happy about it. “Speed the confessors through quickly, make them say a few prayers and then tell them to fuck off.”

He laughed, taking her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. “I’ll do exactly that. It’s a new dawn, after all.” He nuzzled his cheek against hers, scratching her lightly with his stubble and whispering, "Here's a little preview to tide you over." He glanced at his watch. “Fuck, I really do have to go, I’m going to be so late!” He pulled her back in for one final lingering kiss, then slowly backed away, refusing to release her hand until only their fingertips were touching. 

“Come over straightaway once you’re done!”

“I will! You better spend the afternoon carb-loading, you’re going to need it!” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m serious!” he called, grinning before glancing at his watch once more, wincing and hurrying off with a wave.

She watched him go, fingers to her lips and a small smile on her face. “A bit passionate, that one,” one of the mums remarked to her, baby on her hip.

“Hmmm? Oh, he just got let out of prison. We have a lot of catching up to do.” With that, she turned and strode towards her flat, a huge smile on her face and a song in her heart. What an extraordinary day!


	3. Cockblocked by God(mother)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text came in from Claire: Have you shagged him senseless yet?
> 
> She grinned. Looks like Claire finally heard the news. Not yet, about to though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly M-ish territory

“And she’s also working on her nursing degree, such a clever girl!” came from the other side of the confessional. The Priest sat with his elbow on his knee, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He’d just made it back to the church in time for confession, sliding in the side door to avoid the rather sizable group that had gathered that afternoon to confess their sins. Or, in the case of the woman currently in the box, to offer up their relatives as potential matches for him. 

“That’s wonderful, my child. You must be incredibly proud. Do you have anything weighing on your heart? Because—”

“Oh, no, Father, just wanted to let you know I have someone that would be perfect for you, you know, now that you’re allowed…”

“I appreciate that, thank you, but I do need to keep the confessional open for actual confessions today.” The Priest tried to sound upbeat, but he was feeling anxious and impatient to wrap things up. This was the third parishioner in a row that had joined him in the confessional without any actual sins to confess, pretty much defeating the purpose and wasting his time.

“Of course. Have a lovely afternoon, Father!” He heard the curtain slide open and footsteps retreating. The Priest stepped out of his side to address the parishioners, usually a big no-no in the middle of confession, but his patience was wearing thin. He clapped his hands once to get everyone’s attention.

“Right, everyone, if you’re not actually here for confession today, I’m going to need you to see Pam to make an appointment—” he gestured to Pam, who was bustling about replacing the candles up front, “—since our time’s about up for this afternoon.”

“Why are you in such a rush, Father? Have a hot date tonight?” a middle-aged guy joked.

“Ah, good one,” the Priest faked a laugh and shook his finger at him. “Let’s respect the sanctity of confession, please.” _And my personal life_ , he wanted to add. All but one of the remaining parishioners either left or joined Pam up front to make their appointments. He returned to his side of the confessional and listened intently to the final confessor, silently willing her to hurry up so he could go be with his love at last.

At long last he was finally able to rush back to the rectory for a quick shower and to get changed. He was buzzing with excitement at the prospect of being with her soon, feeling none of the guilt or uncertainty he felt their first night together. He started to scrawl out a note to Pam to let her know not to expect him in that evening, but wasn’t sure what to write. He ended up leaving it at “Have an appointment, not sure how long I’ll be.” Fuck it. She wasn’t his mum.

***

She had spent the majority of the afternoon straightening her flat and trying to distract herself from simply watching the clock. His last text stated he’d be around at 6:00, so at 5:50 she decided to sit on her front step and wait for him, people watching and making up stories for the people who passed by.

 _First date_ , she thought about one couple who walked by, nervously sneaking looks at one another and smiling.

 _Definitely trying to make up for something_ , she decided about a guy who was holding an unusually large bouquet of roses. 

A text came in from Claire: _Have you shagged him senseless yet?_

She grinned. Looks like Claire finally heard the news. _Not yet_ , _about to though_. She resumed her people watching and settled on another target, smiling as he made his way toward her. _Mmm, devastatingly handsome devil who’s about to get thoroughly fucked._

“Hey,” her Priest grinned, pleased to find her waiting outside for him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a navy henley that she couldn’t wait to tear off of him. “Have you been waiting long?”

“A few minutes,” she replied, standing up and grabbing his hand to pull him inside.

“You look…interesting,” he remarked, taking in her outfit of a vintage tea dress over jeans. “Feeling indecisive?”

“Just trying a new look,” she said, pulling him inside the flat and kicking the door shut. They fell immediately on one another, a flurry of long anticipated gropes and kisses at last. She gripped his shirt and pulled him close, whispering feverishly in his ear how much she missed his touch and had imagined his hands on her for so many nights. He groaned and wasted no time in slipping a hand to the button of her jeans and practically ripping them open, sliding a hand inside.

“What the fuck is this?” he murmured, pulling away from kissing her neck for a moment to look down. “What are you wearing?”

“Just some leggings,” she grinned, enjoying the confusion in his lust-filled eyes. 

“But…why?” he whined. “Dress and jeans aren’t enough?” He tried to work his hand in further but was having difficulty, growing more frustrated by the second. “What – fucking tights, too? Are you serious? Why are you dressed like a bloody mountain climber?”

“You were the one who was always dressed in layers the few times we were together, so I thought this would be funny.”

  
“Well, it’s not.” He had finally wedged his hand below her waistband, but couldn’t move much further.

“It kind of is,” she giggled.

“It’s really fucking not!” he raised his voice, half laughing and half whimpering, shaking his head. “Did you know, the last time I came was inside of you, over a year ago? So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m feeling a little anxious!”

“Really?” She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, but…really? “No wanks?”

“No,” he huffed. “Vow of celibacy, remember?”

“Not even after that time we went at it on my couch? Seems like you should’ve been given a free pass that night since you were already halfway there.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Shame, because I’ve had plenty of wanks since then thinking about you,” she purred.

He groaned and laid his forehead on her shoulder. “That’s not helping,” he protested, wiggling his wrist side to side in order to work his fingers lower. “Anyways, joke’s on you since my hand is stuck.”

“Here, let me just try--,” she used one hand to try to push her jeans down, and he used his free hand to help.

“It had to be skinny jeans, huh?” Together they worked her jeans down to her knees, which frustrated her since she wanted to wrap a leg around him to grant him better access. She finally conceded that her little joke was definitely ill-thought out. They both let out moans of satisfaction when his hand was able to slide down at last, fingers meeting wetness and heat. “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” he murmured against her mouth in between passionate kisses before sliding two fingers inside her.

She could only whimper in reply, filled with ecstasy that it was finally her Priest’s hand touching her instead of her own, only imagining it was him like she had so many times before. She started riding his hand while bunching her hands in his shirt, encouraging him to go faster.

She had just worked her hands to his belt when her buzzer rang. “Leave it,” she gasped, not even sure if he had heard it. She was reaching for his zipper when it rang again.

“Mr. Nine Times?” he joked, kissing her neck and biting lightly. She tipped her head back and stifled a moan, hoping whoever was interrupting would just fuck off and leave.

“Hello!” a familiar voice shrilled.

What in the ever-loving fuck? They both froze and stared at one another. There was no fucking way—

“Open up, darling! We can hear you’re in!”

“We?” she mouthed at him in horror. The Priest winced and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Dear God, please don’t tell me your dad is on the other side of that door while my hand is shoved firmly up your—”

“Cunt!” she swore, whispering fiercely. “She _never_ comes to my flat, ever! What the _fuck_ are they doing here?” The Priest hastily withdrew his hand from her pants and quickly buckled his belt while she tugged at her jeans to yank them back up. “Go hide in my bedroom while I get rid of them!”

“Christ, I feel like a teenager again, busted by your parents,” he grimaced before heading to her room.

“She is not my parent, she’s a parasite sent from hell to make my life miserable.” Once the Priest was out of sight, she smoothed her hands over herself in an attempt to look presentable and threw open the door, a clenched smile on her face. “Why?” she practically shrieked, “Why…..what a surprise!”

“Oh, hello, darling, we were just at a dodgy art gallery around the corner and thought we’d come and see you!” Godmother announced, barging her way into the flat with Dad in tow.

“Hello, daughter,” he said, kissing her cheek on his way in.

“So bohemian, not quite shabby chic,” Godmother pronounced, looking around the flat. She couldn’t even remember the last time Godmother had been there. “Anyway, we thought we’d come see you, take you out for dinner so you weren’t all alone yet another night.”  
  


“Actually, I already have plans for the evening,” she said matter-of factly, trying to come up with a reasonable story she could sell them on to send them on their way.

“Oh darling, you don’t need to keep up appearances on our behalf. We know you live a fairly lonely and miserable existence, what with Claire in Finland and all.” Godmother tutted, placing a hand on her cheek. She fought the urge to slap her hand away.

“A bite, a chat…you know…family…” Dad offered. She clenched her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. 

“Let me just get changed,” she tried to force a smile.

“Thank goodness, darling, that outfit is not doing it for you at all,” Godmother called after her as she sped to her bedroom.

She dove into her room and slammed the door, resting against it and closing her eyes. “What’s going on, then?” her Priest asked, arms folded and a look of bewilderment on his face.

“They’ve come to take me out for dinner since apparently they think I’m some lonely spinster who stays in every night.” She started hopping around, tugging her jeans off and tossing them onto the floor.

“Are you joking? Please tell me you are,” the Priest said, watching with amusement as she next peeled off the leggings and balled them up on her chair. 

“Look, I’ll make them go somewhere around here and will be back in an hour.”

“How about I just go with you, then?” He moved towards the door, but she stilled him with a hand on his chest.

“No, because then Godmother will be arranging your marriage to the tap dancing mute and giving you sex tips before we even order starters. Just please wait here, I’ll make an escape as soon as I can.”

“Fine, but I’m going to snoop.” He smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Go ahead, I have nothing….wait…no, I have nothing to hide,” she smiled, tugging him close and kissing him sweetly. “I’m so sorry about this, I haven’t seen my dad in ages and can’t just send him away. If it was just her I would have slammed the door in her face.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be fine, just please try to hurry.”

She gave him a pained smile before heading back to Dad and Godmother, grabbing her purse and keys and ushering them out the door. She tried steering them to the places close to her flat in order to speed things up, but Godmother seemed to find something wrong with every place she pointed out.

“Ugh, curry is so spicy, your father does not respond well to it. Italian just bloats me right up…how about that Mediterranean café?”

She groaned inwardly. The place was notoriously slow and almost always got her takeaway orders wrong. Her phone pinged with a text message as they entered the café: a picture of her admittedly sparse refrigerator contents along with a sad face emoji. She giggled and sent a shrugging emoji back.

“So, love, how’re….things….life, café?” her dad asked once they were settled.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old.” She smiled, trying to flag down the waiter for menus. “I’ve gotten quite a few regulars who keep spreading the word and bringing more customers in, can’t complain.” Another text came through, this time two of her guinea pig figurines in a rather risqué pose on the edge of her bathtub. She stifled a laugh and shook her head.

“Everything all right?” Godmother asked, waving the waiter over to change her order. 

“Ah, yes, just trying to sort out a meeting for later. Like I said, I already had plans for the evening.”

“Aw, wine on the couch alone is hardly something to plan an evening around,” Godmother flapped her hands. She hoped the waiter would poison her food, or at the very least spit in it.

As Dad and Godmother got into a discussion about the works at the dodgy art gallery from earlier, she fired off a text to the Priest: _Are you behaving yourself?_

 _Of course!_ Came the reply. _Miss me?_

 _Endlessly. I’m trapped here!_ She replied.

“Yes, I was quite pleased to hear that the Catholic church has finally gotten with the times,” Godmother was saying. This caught her attention. “It’s just too bad Claire has moved to Finland, she would be perfect for our priest.”  
  


She choked on her wine. “Claire? I don’t think so, plus she’s already with Klare. I thought you liked him.”

“Yes, well, don’t get me wrong, Klare is lovely, too. But that dishy priest will not be on the market long, I can tell you that. I’m sure he has plenty of options ready to snap him up.” Godmother smiled at the waiter as their orders were finally being delivered.

Her phone pinged with another text: a selfie this time of the Priest laying in her bed (fully clothed, unfortunately), gazing at her pillow forlornly. His beautiful profile set a stirring within her, and she hoped the dinner from hell would soon end so she could get back home. _Don’t get started without me_ she warned.

“Actually, I was thinking of having a go at him myself,” she joked, just to see Godmother’s reaction. Dad smiled at her, seemingly charmed with the idea.

“Oh, darling, please don’t. It would make things terribly awkward for me after he’s rejected you,” Godmother sighed, shaking her head.

This raised her ire. “And what makes you think he would reject me?” Never mind the fact that said Priest was currently waiting in her flat to ravish her. She was half tempted to blurt that fact out. “We’ve actually been quite friendly in the past year.”

“He’s probably taken pity on you, trying to save you from your self-destructive ways. He’s such a lovely, kind man.”

She took a deep breath and fought the urge to fling her plate in Godmother’s direction. “Right, I’m just going to run to the loo, back in a bit.”

Once in the loo, she checked to see that she was alone, then took what she hoped was a sultry selfie to send to the Priest. She briefly considered sending him a twat shot, but she honestly wasn’t sure how he’d react to that. She’d already put him through enough this evening as it was. His reply was almost instant: _Please hurry, I keep getting invites out from the parishioners and backgammon with Mrs. Davies is starting to look awfully tempting._

 _Don’t you dare!_ She sent back before heading out to the table. To her dismay, she found Dad and Godmother looking over the dessert menu. They’d already been out an hour, and with the slow service this was bound to add at least another 30 minutes to the ordeal.

“Dessert? I thought we were about to head out,” she said, hoping that maybe they had changed their minds.

“Something sweet, for my something…sweet,” Dad smiled at Godmother. She fought the urge to vomit.

“None for me, thanks,” she smiled at the waiter. Her phone buzzed with a picture of Stephanie. Wait, Stephanie? Then that meant –

Sure enough, the next text was a picture of her Priest and her Bank Manager having drinks at her kitchen table. What the fuck? They had gotten to know one another at her café over the past year and she was pleased when they ended up becoming friends, often having long talks on Chatty Wednesdays (even though the rule was to talk to someone you didn’t know). What in the world was he doing at her flat, though?

_Was he surprised to see you there?_

_Not really, and he offered his congratulations_ came back in reply.

_Don’t drink all my good liquor!_

_Not sure you have any. We’ll have to remedy that._

After an interminable wait for dessert, Dad picked up the check and they got up to leave. “Well, thank you so much—” she began.

“Oh, love, perhaps a quick stroll before…night?” Dad smiled. Fucking hell. She gritted her teeth and nodded tightly. She hated turning him down, but she was getting truly desperate to get home before anymore unexpected visitors showed up at her flat to get in the way. For all she knew, Joe was there lecturing her Priest and Bank Manager of the advantages of early retirement on one’s happiness or something similarly mundane.

“Claire’s actually coming for a visit soon, and we were hoping to have a proper family get-together once she’s here,” Godmother said, picking a spray of flowers out of a shop bin and handing them to Dad to buy for her. “I hope you won’t feel too jealous that she’ll have Klare with her.”

“Not at all. I’m glad she’s finally with someone that makes her happy.” She genuinely meant that. After years of enduring Martin and his boorish behavior, Claire deserved someone as sunny as Klare. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him express anger at anything.

After a “quick stroll” of nearly 30 minutes, she finally said her goodbyes and made her escape. What a bizarre turn to the evening. She hurried towards home, angered to find she had been out nearly 2 hours with Dad and Godmother. 

_Finally on my way,_ she texted. _I better not find you asleep or hosting all my café customers in my kitchen._

_Nope, just me, wide awake and bored as fuck._

Well. That was definitely about to change. She stepped up the pace and quickly made her way home.


	4. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” he began. “Your little joke earlier, with all the layers of clothes, that was not nice.”  
> “It was funny, though, at first,” she joked.  
> “To you, maybe. So here’s how things are going to go: lose the tights. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, M-territory.

In no time at all she was letting herself into the flat, curious as to how she was going to find her Priest. “Hello?” she called out softly, locking the door behind her.

“Welcome back.” He was sitting curled up in her corner chair, drink in hand and Stephanie in her cage on the side table next to him. “Your Bank Manager said he couldn’t deal with Stephanie right now and wanted you to keep her. You have a rather strange custody arrangement with him, apparently.”

“Yeah, I wondered why he was here. Did he stay long?”  
  


“No, just had a drink and a chat, then he headed out.”  
  


“Look, I’m sorry about tonight. Godmother just kept blathering on and on about bullshit and Dad just seemed so happy to see me.” She set her bag down and kicked off her shoes.

“No need to apologize for spending time with family. I just wish their timing had been better, like, say, another night.”

“Are you angry?”

“No.” he smiled.

“Disappointed?”

“A little. But don’t worry, I kept myself amused. I rearranged your entire pantry, had a snack – you’re out of Nutella, by the way -- went through all your books, tried on all your knickers…I look rather fetching in the black lace ones.”

“I don’t have any black lace ones,” she smiled wryly.

“Well, let’s fix that, then.” He took a sip of his drink and regarded her with a small smile. She had almost expected him to push her against the wall as soon as she got home to pick up where they’d left off, but he seemed rather content where he was. 

“I’m going to run to the loo, give me a minute and then we can…”

“We can…?”

“Be right back.” She ducked into the loo to freshen up and give herself a fresh coat of coconut oil, a huge smile on her face as she glanced at herself in the mirror. Nothing was going to get in their way now.

She returned to the sitting room, where the Priest was still sitting calmly. Honestly, what was he waiting for?

“So,” he began. “Your little joke earlier, with all the layers of clothes, that was not nice.”

“It was funny, though, at first,” she joked.

“To you, maybe. So here’s how things are going to go: lose the tights. Now.”

She smiled and obliged, sitting on the couch and making quite a show of taking them off slowly, then holding them up and letting them fall to the floor.

“And now the knickers,” he said, taking another sip.

She gave him a quizzical look. “Really? Don’t you want to –”

“No. I don’t want anything between me and what I want. Take them off. Now.” Something about his tone of voice gave her a delicious shiver of anticipation and she hoped whatever game he was playing was going to be over soon, because she really didn’t think she could wait much longer. She stood and reached under her dress, keeping eye contact with him as she slowly pulled her knickers off and left them on the floor. 

“Better?” she whispered.

“Much.” He set his drink down and stood up, stretching a bit before making his way over to stand before her, close but not quite touching. He gazed at her a moment, desire in his eyes as he leaned in and whispered, “I’m gonna just head out.”

“What?!” she squawked, taken aback. “Are you _fucking_ —"

“Gotcha!” he said softly, grinning. She swatted his shoulder and let out a relieved laugh. He closed the gap between them, taking her face in his hands and kissing her soundly, making her forget her whole bizarre interlude with Godmother and Dad and ensuring that all she was feeling, sensing and wanting was him.

The Priest pulled back suddenly and swept an arm under her knees, lifting her off her feet before she had even opened her eyes. “Now, let’s get on with this already!” She laughed and buried her face in his neck, breathing him in and sighing contentedly. He strode across the room and carried her to the bottom of the stairs before stopping. “Right, I was going for all strong and romantic, but I’m actually kind of worried about us tripping up the stairs.” He said, eyeing them warily.

“Look,” she said, sliding out of his arms and throwing her arms around his neck. “I don’t need romance, I don’t need foreplay – we’ve already had a year of that. I just want you,” she leaned in and kissed him. “Inside me. Immediately.” 

His breathing became ragged. “Fair warning, this first round is going to be over very quickly.” He lifted his arms as she finally tore that Henley off him. 

“God _damn_ , you are a work of art!” she breathed, running her hands across his chest and down his abdomen. He responded by lifting her dress over her head and tossing it aside. They worked their way up the stairs, shedding clothes as they went before making it to her bedroom. 

They finally collapsed together on her duvet, a tangle of limbs, passionate kisses and fervently whispered promises. The Priest worked his way down her body, desiring one quick sample of her before claiming her completely. She moaned in bliss as his delicious scruff scratched her inner thighs, winding a hand in his hair before gently tugging him back up. He leaned over her, panting, nodding his head and smiling slowly, before gently easing his way inside her.

And that was all it took. Just the heavenly feeling of him filling her again had her throwing her head back and climaxing hard, screaming out “God bless the fucking pope!”

The Priest paused briefly and gave a short laugh, gasping, “When I said quick, I meant me!” She pulled him in for another kiss and urged him to move, which he was more than happy to oblige. Fairly soon, he was following her over the edge, collapsing into her as she wound her arms tighter to keep him close. “You…” he said, breathing hard and pressing his lips to her neck. “You are everything.”

***

Several not-so-quick rounds later, they were cuddled up together, sharing one of the chocolate croissants that she brought back from the restaurant. “These are fucking incredible!” the Priest exclaimed, sweeping crumbs off the bed.

“I told you, right?” she agreed, licking chocolate off of the corner of her mouth. “We definitely earned this.”

“Sex croissants? Sounds like a new wave band.” He grinned and repositioned his pillow.

“Mmm, I’d buy that album.” She agreed. Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Like a Star” played quietly from her phone as they settled back in bed, smiling at one another in disbelief and happiness.

“So, listen, I’m sorry that I put you on the spot earlier today, with the whole out of the blue marriage thing, I mean, we’re not really…right?”

“Engaged? Christ no!” she said, brushing a croissant crumb off of the Priest’s chin. “We agreed that’s just a placeholder, yeah?”

“Yeah. I just…I still can’t believe that we’re really happening. I mean, we don’t have to hide or sneak around and worry about being caught out. This is extraordinary. Although, I don’t think we should announce ourselves too soon, lest people suspect that we had something going on before now.”

“Well, we did, though,” she pointed out. “Our fling before the wedding, but we’ve been rather well-behaved friends for awhile. But I’m fine keeping you all to myself for a time.” She leaned in and kissed him.

“Er, can I make a confession?” he asked shyly.

“Yes, Father?” she said in a serious tone before giggling.

“Do you remember that Italian restaurant we went to, the one with the awful pici cacio e pepe?”

“Ugh, how could I forget?” she made a face. “It’s only 3 ingredients, how can you mess that up?”

“Right. Well, I’m not sure if you noticed, but there was this older couple at the table next to us, bickering over something or other. They kept going back and forth until he eventually took her hand, kissed it and said, “Ciao, bella,” in the worst attempt at an Italian accent. Next thing they were smiling and back to chatting away happily.”

“OK…” she said, not sure where he was going with this.

“I saw them and thought to myself, that’s going to be us someday, and I felt such a rush of happiness. But the next moment the crushing realization hit me: How?” He furrowed his brow, lost in the memory. “It was just one of those reality checks that punched me right in the gut, you know? It made me realize that I wouldn’t be able to breathe without you in my life somehow, but how could we stay close without eventually getting between you and…someone else? I wasn’t able to offer you anything more than friendship, and I find it hard to believe that another man would someday be content with our closeness.”

She nodded, as the thought had crossed her mind more than once also.

“After that, I started researching alternatives to being a Catholic priest, some way to serve that wouldn’t have the celibacy constraints.” He studied her face for a reaction.

This was news to her. “Really?” she sat up. “You were actually considering it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it might make things weird, because I wasn’t totally sure if I could go through with it. I didn’t think it would be fair to put the idea out there if it didn’t happen. Next think you knew, all the rumors started to come out of the Vatican.”

“I had no idea you were thinking about that. Suddenly all my attempts to get you drunk to spill your secrets seem wasted.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He cuddled her close. “It’s just such a relief to not have to choose anymore. Because in the battle with God, you were definitely starting to overpower Him.”

“I do have superhuman strength sometimes,” she said, flexing her arm. “OK, while we’re confessing, I have one myself.”

“Do you want me to say my whole priestly pre-confession speech?”

“Ah, no, I’m good. Um, this whole year, I broke one of our unspoken friendship rules.” She bit her lip. 

The Priest looked at her, intrigued. “Go on.”

“I know I wasn’t supposed to, since we were committed to being just friends, but I fell more and more in love with you the longer we spent time together.” Her face reddened slightly, even though she knew it was a rather poorly kept secret. There was no way he didn’t know. “In fact, do you see that?” She pointed at a framed quote on the wall across the room from the bed.

“ ‘Everything that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.’ That’s Kafka, right? The doll story or something? I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be too impressed, I saw it on Facebook,” she admitted. “The story might not even be factual, but I love that quote because it’s true. I went through a really rough patch in my life, missing my mom like crazy, mourning and feeling incredibly guilty about Boo, estranged from my family for a year…I felt like I had lost everything I loved. Then I met you. _You_ were the love in a different form.”

The Priest was quiet a moment, taking in her words. She had told him all about Boo some time ago, sparing no details and laying herself bare. “Wow…I don’t want to upset you by asking this,” he began, looking hesitant. “But do you think if Boo had lived, would we have happened? I mean, would you have still been looking to fill a void, or just regarded me as that nutter who ranted at your dad’s wedding?”

“Oh, absolutely we would have happened! Boo was in love with love and would have totally encouraged me to go after you. Or she might have tried to get off with you herself.” She chuckled to herself, thinking of her beautiful friend and how she loved to see people being happy. “She was just like you, wanting to always see the good in everyone. I don’t look at you as filling a void; we met right when we were supposed to and I really believe that the spark between us would’ve been there anyway. I mean, I _am_ pretty hot.” 

“That you are,” he agreed, eyes widening along with his grin as he stroked her cheek lovingly.

“I love you,” she said, kissing the palm of his hand. She was surprised when the Priest breathed a visible sigh of relief.

“Thank Christ, it’s so good to finally hear it.”

“What? I’m the one who said it first, not once but three times, if I recall correctly!”

“Not today!” he said, voice raising slightly. “That was over a year ago! I said it to you today within 5 minutes of seeing you in the park!”

“Oh, bullshit, I’ve said it today…haven’t I?”

“No, you have not,” the Priest said resolutely. “I’ve been waiting all day to hear it, and damn does it feel so fucking good.”

She thought back and realized with a jolt that she hadn’t said it yet after all. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry! Surely you’ve felt it though, right?” 

“Several times,” he said wickedly. “But it wouldn’t hurt to hear again. Because I love you, too.”

“I love you,” she said, kissing him before throwing the duvet off of them. “I love you,” she breathed into his ear, sucking on his earlobe for a moment because she knew it drove him wild. “I love you,” she whispered, climbing on top of him and framing his face with her arms. “Feel better?”

“Oh, yes,” he sighed happily. “Though, one more request?”

“Name it and it’s yours, because I love you!” she sing-songed in an attempt at an Irish lilt.

He cringed slightly. “Was that supposed to be me? Because that was a _terrible_ Irish accent!” 

“It wasn’t that bad!” she rolled her eyes. “What were you trying to say?”

“Er, could you maybe scream my name when you come instead of the pope’s? He’s already gotten three shout-outs tonight and I’d like to be in there somewhere.”

She smiled. “I’m sorry, my love, I’m just so grateful to him for finally allowing his clergymen to experience life fully at last. But,” she began, stretching out her legs and laying herself fully on her Priest. “There’s only one way to make that happen…”

“Indeed,” he growled, flipping them over so that he could have the upper hand. “But just remember,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “My name is…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking this one might be finished, but I have several works in progress that pick up in the same storyline.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is my first time writing a fanfic, but I just love these characters so much! The ending of S2 was the perfect mix of sadness, beauty and hope. But to me, their story just can't end at that bus stop - there's too much there between them to just let go (no disrespect to PWB).


End file.
